


Worth fighting for

by womanroaring



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 16:52:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15199199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/womanroaring/pseuds/womanroaring
Summary: Modern AU of Pet, where Ancel meets Berenger by working for him as an intern.Only rated "mature" for language and mention of all the sex they have. Nothing explicitly depicted.As with my other capri fic, I blame my friend (she's magiclamd on tumblr) for prompting this xxAs ever, comments are appreciated. I write fic when I have writers block with my original work, so I probably could use the encouragement.





	Worth fighting for

The day Ancel had moved in with Berenger, the older man had handed him a credit card.

Ancel had just stared at the thing.

"It’s a secondary card on my account. I expect you're probably going to want to redecorate," Berenger was saying, managing to sound resigned, indulgent, patient and also (Ancel indulged himself) the smallest bit loving, all at once. "You know all my passwords if you want to check the balances before you buy anything that might actually break the bank."

Ancel cleared his throat and looked up at him. He was going to say -- he wasn't sure what he was going to say -- but his eyes landed on the awful polo shirt Berenger had put on, to help the movers.

"Can I buy you some new clothes?" He asked hopefully.

Berenger broke into the dry smile his voice had been hinting at earlier. "No. But you buy yourself as many as you like, that's what the card's for. You have a whole walk-in wardrobe to fill now, rather than that awful clothesrack you used to have."

Ancel's clothesrack had indeed been awful (his microscopic flat hadn't offered luxuries like built-in robes), but Ancel expected Berenger had only noticed it at all because it had toppled over onto them while they had been having sex, the one and only time Berenger had stayed over there. Ancel had insisted on hanging all of his clothes back up again before they resumed and he had the vague notion that this incident had been crucial, in the older man's decision to invite him to move in with him. Ancel would have worried it was pity, if he wasn't more worried that it was merely practical. Berenger could be very practical.

Ancel looked back down at the card, and then dropped to his knees, smirking and starting to undo Berenger's belt. "I need to thank you," he had said, but Berenger had stepped back, pulled him back up to his feet, looking a little scandalised.

"Ancel," Berenger said, "You don't need to do that. Nothing I give you will ever come with conditions. You're my boyfriend, not some sort of -- of mistress I keep in exchange for sex. Ok?"

Ancel felt himself blushing, but he nodded, looking at the floor and sliding the card into his pocket.

He still totally blew Berenger later, though.

Because he'd wanted to.

* * *

Ancel met Berenger the first day of his internship. His first thought was, "Surely that suit is a mistake."

His second thought was, "that is a good, strong face."

He barely saw the man for the first month or so. He was terribly busy and important, with a lot of people wanting his time (he seemed to know everybody's names, down to the cleaners) which was both good for Ancel and also frustrating, because there went Ancel's plans to suck up to him as much as possible in the hope of beating everyone else to any job offers. Instead, he did whatever work was asked of him -- it was all straightforward enough, nothing his college courses and his previous internships at smaller companies hadn't prepared him for -- and studied up on him as much as he could in the meantime.

He apparently liked things by the book, all the i's dotted and t's crossed. Ancel could work with that.

He was also, according to the watercooler gossip, very rich and very single.

Ancel could also work with that.

It quickly became apparent to Ancel that he was the best intern in the program, and once Berenger started coming into the office more often, it was clear that he'd noticed it too. Ancel tried not to visibly preen too much over this, since personal vanity wasn't one of Berenger's hobbies (which was such a pity, because it had also quickly become apparent to Ancel that the man's expensive-but-horrible clothes were draped over quite a nicely shaped figure: all broad shoulders, trim waist and flat stomach).

One day, early on, he had caught Ancel playing dumb with one of the managers. Ancel had asked the guy to explain a problem that an associated department was having, that the manager himself had caused by refusing to sign off on something, out of pettiness. Ancel had managed to get Louans to agree to everything, while making it seem like it had all been his own idea. The manager had walked away feeling like he was all grace and generosity; Ancel had turned around smugly, rolling his eyes, to see Berenger looking at him thoughtfully.

Sprung, Ancel raised his chin. "I got the job done," he said.

"I see," Berenger said.

* * *

Ancel had been with the company for another month or so, when Berenger said: "Here, this is for you."

It was a contract of employment.

"But -" Ancel had said, after a few speechless seconds, "my internship was supposed to be for 6 months."

"I hate internships. They're exploitative. You fit in well here, you do good work and you should be fairly compensated. I need someone like you. If you'd rather continue being exploited, then by all means, feel free to shred that paperwork. Otherwise I'd like it back by the end of the week."

Ancel signed it on the spot, against the nearest wall, and handed it back.

Berenger blinked at him. "You really should have taken some time to read that."

"But my boss said he wouldn't exploit me," Ancel said, "and I trust him."

He had tilted his head and said it quietly, smiling a little, thinking Berenger would like that, and it was clear that he did, if his answering small smile was anything to go by.

"Go take a photocopy for yourself of that, at least," he said, after a moment or two, nodding at the contract, and then turned and walked away.

Ancel read over it as he copied it. There was really only one question he had, when he knocked on Berenger's office to make him take the signed original.

"The offer was only in your name. I thought the General Manager, Mr Regent, needed to sign off on all job offers?"

"No, actually. As the Director of Finance, I have autonomy over this section of the business. It's an odd leftover from the merging of a few separate arms of the business, seven years ago, when Vere Financial broke off and everything had to be restructured. I really report to the board, not to Mr Regent."

"How did I not know that?" Ancel asked, then flushed, thinking how young and stupid it made him sound.

"You aren't the first to think Mr Regent has more power than he actually does. He certainly likes people to think that way. Makes it easier any time he does bring yet another thing into his control."

Ancel nodded, shifting a few things about the business around in his head. He planned to follow up on this, work out where his understanding had gone wrong. He had flirted with the concept of moving into Mr Regent's team at a later point and now he needed to rethink those ideas. They might not help him as much as he had thought.

"Thank you," he said, trying to sound as sincere as possible, since Berenger seemed to respond well to the appearance of sincerity, "for this opportunity. I'll do my best to prove your faith in me is justified."

Berenger had just nodded, and gone back to his work.

It was disappointing, but Ancel supposed that Berenger wasn't really one for bantering back and forth. Even so, sometimes Ancel really thought there might be more there, between them -- something in the way that Berenger looked at him. There had been one particular time when he had been explaining a particular piece of tax legislation, and how it related to what Ancel was working on, and it had bored Ancel stupid, but he had nodded and made the right noises, and he could have sworn Berenger had been looking at his mouth. He had moved slightly closer, just in case, looking demurely at the charts he was being shown, wondering if brushing his hand against Berenger's leg was the right play yet -- he could feel the heat between their bodies, they were so close now -- but Berenger had closed the webpage then, and sent him on an errand.

 _Snap out of it_ , he told himself. Perhaps Berenger was straight. Or ace. It certainly wasn't his own personal charms, failing him. Other people in the office absolutely weren't immune to them, or his knack for teasing conversation. People wanted to talk about his background, his jewellery, the three piercings in his ears ("are those the only ones you have har har"), his pretty face, his long hair. No one had asked if his cuffs and collar matched, yet, but it was only a matter of time.

He had spent almost the entirety of his first pay on a very fancy new pair of shoes, and received many compliments on them. He hadn't expected Berenger to notice those, but he had.

The second was devoted to beauty treatments -- getting his eyebrows and eyelashes tinted, plus a manipedi and a facial. A fancier haircut. He looked a million bucks when he went back to work that Monday and everyone seemed to notice. This time Berenger hadn't said anything, but had sent him on several more errands.

_Snap out of it._

_* * *_

A lot of people seemed confused by them, as a couple. Ancel wondered if his friends (bitches, most of them) just didn't understand the appeal of kindness and integrity (god knows he himself hadn't experienced a lot of either before this relationship) when it was combined with a handsome face and an extremely healthy bank balance.

He could make Berenger happy.

Several of Berenger's own friends, meanwhile, seemed to think there was exactly one reason why he had picked Ancel. They didn't judge; on the contrary, they informed Ancel that once he was sick of Boring Berenger, they were surely rich enough to warrant a look in, when he considered his next conquest?

Ancel laughed them off.

They didn't understand.

Ancel… felt _seen_ with Berenger, in all his messy glory. The man saw through all Ancel's bullshit. And he still wanted him, wanted the person Ancel was inside, a person Ancel hadn't even been sure was really there. Berenger wasn't some slavering idiot who only saw Ancel's pretty face. And even if Ancel really, genuinely did like Berenger's money, and all the lovely things it could buy, that wasn't really why he was with him.

Berenger was… worth staying with. Ancel hadn't even realised he was something he'd been looking for, and failing to find.

* * *

Ancel had been with the company for maybe five months when he discovered the keystroke recorder on his computer. He had been idly checking through the machine, trying to work out why some pieces of software occasionally had weird delays and glitches in them. He was good with computers, having considered making them his career before he had settled on business instead (better dressed).

He was about to email the company's IT department, before he realised that he didn't know whether or not it was something as simple as scammers, or a rival illegally spying; or if it was authorised internal spying, or unauthorised -- someone specifically trying to dig up something on Berenger and his department.

Ancel found an excuse to use his boss's computer one day, just as everyone was heading home, and sure enough; it was on there, as well. He also found something he hadn't expected -- evidence that Berenger was in contact with the company's biggest rival, the Vere Financial he had mentioned.

He had sent them a whole heap of dirt on Mr Regent.

It turned out that their respected GM was holding blackmail material on several of members of the board. Some had conspired with Regent on all sorts of illegal deals -- market and political manipulations, acts that surely counted as treasonous, and one particular item that made Ancel feel a little bit sick -- links to a company that was currently being investigated for trafficking in children.

He turned the computer off and stood up, thinking about the best way to wipe all the hard drives in the department.

And saw there was someone standing in the doorway, watching him.

He managed to catch himself before jumping like a kid with his hand caught in a cookie jar.

"Ancel, isn't it?"

"Mr Regent," he said, plastering on his most professional smile. "You startled me!"

"You're here late. So dedicated. But from what I hear, you have a bright future in this department."

Ancel told himself that the threat he heard in those words was all in his own head.

"I hope so," he said, flicking his hair back and making himself smile. "A girl's gotta pay the bills. Why, are you hoping to lure me away with a better offer?"

Some of the tension seemed to leak out of the other man. His gaze turned patronising instead. Ancel could work with patronising.

"How about I lure you away for an after-work drink instead. You looked like you were done here?"

It sounded like it should be a question, but it really wasn't one. Ancel took a deep breath. A drink with this man sounded like the worst thing in the world now he knew all that he knew, but Ancel didn't want to leave him in Berenger's office, either.

"I'd _love_ that, Mr Regent. That's so nice."

Ancel played as charming as he could. He asked the GM a lot of questions about himself since personal vanity did seem to be a hobby of his, and pretended to be flattered by and grateful for his attention. The man sat a little too close to him, and Ancel didn't move away.

Ancel made a bitchy remark about Berenger's awful suits, as he finished his G&T, and the creep had laughed.

Then Ancel lied, and said he had a date to get ready for, and took a taxi straight to Berenger's house.

He had been there once before to drop off some papers; this time he didn't wait to be invited in when Berenger opened the door, but pushed his way in and closed the door behind him.

"There's spyware on half the computers in our department, including yours. Also I found your messages with Vere. If I could find them, I bet Regent knows already."

Berenger eyed him.

"You did seem too good to be an intern," he said, sounding tired, like everyone around him was always disappointing him with their grubbiness and it exhausted him. "What is this, corporate espionage? Is that why you were going through my things?"

"What? No! I found your other email account by accident -"

"You went through my email? Are you going to tell Regent?"

"No way! That guy makes my skin crawl!"

"Then what is this? You want to blackmail me?"

Ancel gaped at him.

"Is that what you think of me? We've worked together for months -- you offered me a permanent place -- and that's what you -- I thought you -- I thought we -"

Ancel's words ran out and he just stared at the other man.

"What, Ancel? Will you please just explain yourself?"

_"I have a thing for you, ok?"_

Berenger rocked back on his feet. Now he was the one thrown by what was being said. Enough that he started listening.

Ancel told him everything from the start -- that he had seen the spyware on his machine and gone to check where else it was, so that he could let him know, since he was his _boss_ and he thought something was off. That he hadn't known who to trust, apart from him, and that he wanted to help him.

"You -- have feelings for me."

Ancel put his manicured hands over his eyes. "Oh my god, please don't focus on that bit. I wish I'd left that part out, my stupid _mouth_ -"

"I have feelings for you too. And your stupid mouth."

Ancel dropped his hands, felt said mouth gape open. He closed it.

"It's a very pretty mouth," Berenger said, and Ancel's mind was breaking open now, because he was saying it in the same honest, practical sort of voice he said just about everything in. "I've thought so from the first time I saw you, which was very unprofessional of me. But you should rethink whether you want to help me. This could all blow up in my face. Regent could somehow implicate me in any of it, accuse me of corporate espionage, plant evidence. He's crafty and nasty. And don't doubt that my contact at Vere could hang me out to dry. You are so bright; you have your whole future ahead of you, I don't know if you realise how bad this could go, how long it will follow you around if it does."

They were slowly moving into each other's personal space, now, which struck Ancel as completely inappropriate, when he thought about it later. He hadn't found the conversation sexy, quite the opposite, but the thought of being allowed to touch -- of being allowed to finally know, maybe, exactly what was under those awful suits -- was driving him forward.

"My pretty mouth and I don't care," he said, and then he was kissing Berenger, twining his hands around his neck, running his hand up through the short dark hair at the back of his head, just like he'd wanted to for months.

He did a few other things he'd wanted to do for months, as well.

Luckily Berenger's taste in bed linen wasn't as bad as his taste in clothes.

* * *

A few days later, a power surge on Berenger's floor somehow fried the circuits on half the computers, destroying the ones with the spyware.

"You could have started a fire," Berenger said to him, blinking.

"Even better," he had retorted.

Berenger resigned two days after that, and paid the next three months of Ancel's rent so that Ancel could follow suit, if he wanted to, without worrying about money. Ancel wanted to. But then Berenger said that they needed to be somewhere out of the way for what was about to go down, and took him away to a property he owned, with a lake.

Ancel preferred to think of it as a honeymoon.

They sure fucked enough.

Even if Berenger's lawyers kept on coming.

A few of his former co-workers sometimes texted him with gossip, or nosy questions about where he was, wanting confirmation he was with Berenger. He just sent eggplant emojis back, or selfies of himself with cucumber slices on his eyes, the fancy bathroom in the background.

The fight with Vere Financial turned extremely nasty, but in the end Regent and several of his cronies were put behind bars. The Vere director, a precocious young blond who Ancel was pretty sure he'd want to fuck if it wasn't for Berenger, had also been accused of a number of things but he was cleared of all charges -- even ones that Ancel was pretty sure he had done, like collude with Akielos Trust Management.

Berenger received a call from him one afternoon, asking when he was coming in to work. They were going to need him, the blond said, as Vere Financial were merging with Akielos.

Berenger said he'd start Monday, and he was bringing Ancel.

* * *

Ancel did redecorate, and he did go clothes shopping. Mostly for himself, although a few jackets made their way into Berenger's section of their walk-in robe. When Berenger raised his eyebrows at this, Ancel told him the staff from Akielos were terribly intimidating and they couldn't possibly wear horrible clothes in front of them.

"Do you really want them thinking I'd fuck a man who wears brown?" He said.

Adjusting to their relationship took some time. Their taste in food turned out to be as different as their taste in clothes. Their ideas about what constituted a date, or a night out, or even a friend, were very different.

Ancel could work with that. He learnt how to throw a killer dinner party.

Berenger bought him a red sports car.

Ancel loved it, loved that he had given him such an expensive gift, loved that it was so sleek and beautifully designed. After he had waxed lyrical about it so much, Berenger was very confused to learn that Ancel didn't have a license.

He pretended he wasn't terrified during the lessons Berenger gave him, and was so happy to be alive after one particular practice session that he insisted on christening the car's backseat. They barely fit, but Ancel did not care one bit.

Berenger took Ancel to fundraising events for charities that he was on the boards for, and introduced him to amazing people. Ancel caught him smiling at him, sometimes, at these, while he was chatting animatedly with these figures, and it made something catch in his chest.

Less successful were Berenger's attempts at introducing him to some of his other interests. Arthouse cinema was a particular fail.

He got the message eventually when Ancel kept on trying to blow him to get out of finishing any of the more "artistic" films.

Berenger had been appalled one night when one of Ancel's acquaintances had offered them a threesome.

Another time, one of them had pulled Ancel's head back by yanking his hair, at the back of his head, and tried to kiss him.

"They're just… like that," Ancel had said.

Berenger stopped coming out with him, when he was seeing those friends, after that.

"We should probably talk," Berenger said, one morning, in a calm voice.

They'd had a bit of a spat the previous night. If Ancel was being fair, he had come home slightly drunk and in a bad mood; a bad combination. Berenger had been supposed to come out with him, but had had to work late. One of Ancel's cattier friends had insinuated things about their relationship. Ancel knew this friend had always been jealous of him, but it still stung. He had been feeling needy, and neglected, and to be honest, he was a little bit scared, sometimes, of how happy he was. This was the longest relationship he'd ever been in, and the healthiest.

So, of course.

Of course he would ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him by being a bitch to the guy he'd had the best sex of his life with. Who was rolling in money and didn't care how much of it Ancel spent. Who had invited him to call his home his own and helped his career and introduced him to important people and made him feel cherished for the first time in his life.

So, he had been bitchy, and Berenger had looked up from his book patiently, and asked him to "please just get into bed" and so of course, Ancel had huffed off to the spare bedroom, which was kept clean and made up even though Berenger never seemed to have had anyone stay in it, ever.

He had real trouble falling asleep, kept waking up. He hadn't realised how quickly he had gotten used to having Berenger's warm, solid weight next to him.

He had gone into their room that morning to pick out clothes and with a hope of showing Berenger how sorry he was with a quickie in the shower.

He hadn't expected Berenger to want to Talk.

His mind whirled, trying to work out a strategy. But then it all just felt like bullshit.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out.

Berenger looked at him for a long moment. Then, "We both know this isn't working."

Ancel's chest felt like it was being crushed.

"You can keep your car, anything else that you want. I can easily arrange to have you moved to another department, at work. You won't have to even see me if you don't want to. I'll go to the lakehouse for a few weeks, give you time to organise a new place."

"I don't want to leave you."

The words just came out, and Ancel hated how he sounded. Suddenly he was mad.

"Don't you care about me at all? Jesus, I come home in a bad mood once and you're all, "oh well, that's it, nice while it lasted"? Do you really feel so little for me?"

"I don't know what to do with you."

"You can kiss me, and tell me you forgive me. You can tell me you missed me in our bed last night. You can tell me to behave."

 _You can love me,_ he didn't say.

"I don't -- want you to have to change for me, Ancel. And -- I might be too set in my ways now, to change for you."

"I don't want you to change! I thought -- I thought I made you happy."

"I don't think I can make _you_ happy, Ancel."

These words sounded different to his previous, measured tone. His usual serious voice sounded raw in its honesty, now.

"You don't get to decide what makes me happy. How dare you try and decide that for me, you patronising -- no, you know what? You know damned well how I feel about you. What is this really about?

"I'm too old for you."

"That's a crock of shit and you know it."

"I work too much and don't go out with you and don't go shopping with you. We don't like the same things."

"We like enough of the same things."

"You are going to get tired of me. It's happened before. Last night -- has happened before. But I didn't feel this way before. I -"

"You're scared."

Berenger just looked at him.

"I'm scared, too," Ancel said. "I've never felt this way either. That's a good thing. That means it's real, that we're something worth holding on to."

He stepped closer to Berenger, watched his body language open up as he inched nearer. He put his hands to his chest, over the buttons of his shirt.

"You were so brave helping Vere. I think you'll manage to fight for me."

Berenger kissed him then, their arms moving tightly around each other.

They didn't make it into the office that day.


End file.
